Be Still My Heart
by thenokken
Summary: Hamlet is worried sick about his roommate, Speed Racer, can he ever admit how he truly feels about the famous racer?


Hamlet ran his hands through his curly brown hair, messing it up even further. He couldn't bear to turn on the television, he knew that the race was going to be broadcast but he just couldn't turn it on. He should be supporting Speed, and he knew that this was an important race but Hamlet also knew the dangers of cross country racing. Images of his roommate's car broken and mangled in a ditch with no one around to hear his cries for assistance pervaded his waking hours and haunted his fitful and few bursts of sleep he managed to take.

It was times like these he wished he could call his dad, hear his mother's voice, but being the sole heir and disappointingly gay son to a long line of highly important Danish royalty meant that he had been "sent to finishing school" and had never returned. He was lucky he still had Horatio, but a best friend could never fill the gaping scar left behind when your parents refuse to acknowledge your existence.

And then there was his roommate, Speed. Even alone and pacing the living room of their shared apartment Hamlet couldn't help but blush when he thought of him. With his dark brown hair and thick eyelashes, Speed was easily the most beautiful person Hamlet had set eyes on. And his odd fashion was the perfect combination of classic retro and modern hipster, white pants loose around the ankles and a plain blue shirt with white cuffs. And of course his ascot, Hamlet could see himself untying it from around Speed's neck and gently kissing the soft skin it concealed. But it was hopeless. To Speed they were friends and nothing more, and there was Trixie. Trixie who actually attended his races, Trixie who was a normal, functioning person and not a tousled mess too afraid to leave the house, too afraid to press the fucking button on the television just to see if Speed is okay. To see whether he's winning.

"I could never compete with her." He muttered to himself, sinking onto the couch and dropping his head into his hands. God he was a wreck. When was the last time he left the house? When was the last time he ate? Drank anything besides coffee with too much sugar and cream. Speed was always teasing him about that, Speed drank his coffee straight up black, no nonsense, right to the point.

"I must be going mad, it's like I barely know myself anymore." Hamlet ran his hands through his hair again, tugging on it lightly. In the next room he could hear the faint ringing of the land line phone Speed insisted they keep despite the fact that they both had cell phones (along with the rest of the modern world…). "Let it ring, words, words, words. None of them really matter."

What was the date? It had at least been three days since he had last left the apartment, maybe more. Working from home as a writer had it's perks, but it also meant that when he spiraled into one of his episodes very few people noticed he was shut inside. Except for Speed. But he was gone. And that bastard wasn't helping Hamlet at all at the moment, he was going mad here alone, not knowing whether the man he loved so unrequitedly was alive or… or worse. And the bloody phone wouldn't stop ringing! Hamlet stood up suddenly, running to kitchen and grabbing the cord, ready to yank it out of the wall when the ringing was replaced by the sound of the answering machine clicking on.

"Hamlet? Look, I'm worried, I haven't heard from you in days. I'm coming over, I know you so I know you probably haven't turned on the television to check the race. I'm outside the doors, ring me in will you?" Both relieved and saddened Hamlet walked dejectedly to the doorway, pressing the buzzer to let Horatio inside before throwing himself onto the couch. Sure he was being a little dramatic, but he had always been a little dramatic, especially around Horatio.

The front door opened a few minutes later and Horatio walked in, holding a blended white chocolate mocha with caramel, a latte, and a large bag of marshmallows.

"It's like a crypt in here! When's the last time you opened a window? Or the blinds?" Horatio set the drinks on the counter and strode over the large window opposite the entryway, pulling up the cheap plastic blinds with a smooth motion and unlatching the window to let the fresh air in.

"Yeah it's good to see you too." Hamlet muttered, shielding his eyes from the late afternoon sunshine and groaning. Of course it was always nice to see his best friend, but Hamlet didn't feel like doing much of anything except obsessing and worrying at the moment. So it was almost certainly for the best that he had shown when he did.

"Okay," Horatio settled into the arm chair opposite Hamlet's couch. "Do you want me to tell you?"

"Yes..." Hamlet nodded, covering his face with hands in anticipation of whatever the outcome of the news would be.

"Hamlet, he won. He called me an hour ago, he's coming home tomorrow. He was worried because you never called and your cell phone was off!"

"Speed won?" Hamlet sat up too quickly, momentarily dizzy. "Of course he did, he's brilliant!" Hamlet grinned, grabbing the large cup of "coffee" (everyone knew these things were basically milkshakes with a hint of coffee and about three cups of sugar, but that was why they were so perfect) and took a large sip.

"Now that's out of the way, Hamlet you need to tell him how you feel." Horatio leaned back with his latte, looking half exasperated and half amused. "It's been months and I can't take another phone call from you at three in morning going on and on about his hair is _so prefect_ or how he _has the sweetest face_ or about how, and I quote, _amazingly wonderful his ass looks in those white pants-"_

"Alright! Shut up! Fine, fine, I get it. No more talking about him." His face felt hot and he didn't break eye contact with the ceiling. "But I can't tell him. He has a girlfriend, and he's probably not gay or bi or into me in the slightest because that's not how the world works for me Horatio. With my luck he'd ask me to move out because it's weird having living with your gay roommate who's in love with you when you're a straight race car driver!"

"Here we go again..."

"So I will not be telling him, not today, not tomorrow, or tomorrow, or tomorrow. It is, nor it cannot come to good for me to tell him. Break my heart for I must hold my tongue!" With his brief monologue over with Hamlet fell back against the couch cushions, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"Hamlet how long is this going to go on for? Tell him or try to move on! There's this really nice guy at my office, he works in sales, and I'd be happy to set you up with him! Or you can brush your hair, change out of your ratty shirt, and when Speed walks through that door tonight throw yourself into his arms and kiss him senseless!"

"You said he wouldn't be home until tomorrow." Hamlet narrowed his eyes, jumping to his feet and rushing into his bedroom, frantically tugging off his shirt and beginning to dig through the pile of clothes on his unmade bed to find something halfway nice to change into.

"Shit, shit! I told him I wouldn't tell you- He wanted to surprise you!" Horatio stood in the doorway, only looking halfway sorry. "Look, he's going to be here later tonight, you have plenty of time to change and figure out how to tell him that you're head over heels, disgustingly in love with him. God, you're worse than Ophelia was you know?"

"You take that back! I am not worse than Ophelia!" Hamlet gasped, pausing half way through buttoning a white shirt and trying to pull on a clean pair of jeans.

"Fine, whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Get back here! I am not worse than her! She used to follow me around for crying out loud! She left flowers on all of my things and she tried to get Laertes to ask me out for her! I nearly said yes until I realized that he was asking me _for_ Ophelia!" In his haste to catch up with Horatio, Hamlet tripped over the jeans he was trying to put on and fell flat on the floor just in time to hear the front door close with a slight bang. Kicking off the offending pants he stood quickly and ran out of his room, frantically trying to button his shirt despite how his fingers felt numb and useless. "Horatio!"

"Really charming you idiot, I'm still here." Horatio stood next to… Speed.

"Oh… um. Hi?" Suddenly very aware of the fact that he was wearing skull patterned boxers and a half buttoned, wrinkled white shirt. "I mean, not just hi. Congratulations! On the race, I mean. So, uh, how are you?"

"Lord save us." Horatio sighed, shaking his head and grabbing his to go cup of coffee. "Hamlet, text me later, okay?" Hamlet nodded dazedly as Horatio slipped out of the door.

"Hamlet, I was really worried about you? Are you okay? What happened?" Speed folded his arms across his chest and gazed at Hamlet, biting his lip and a concerned look on his face.

"It's just- well the thing is… You see I- I was worried, I couldn't bear to turn on the news or the race, or turn on my phone. Because what if when I did check the headline would be… what if you had crashed? What if something happened with your car? I didn't want to find out if that was the case. I couldn't make myself check. I'm really sorry you worried, I was fine, really." He hadn't been fine, but that was well beyond the point he was trying to make here.

"You were that worried?" Speed softened a little, taking a step toward his bedraggled roommate. "I was worried too, you know, I couldn't get a hold of you, you weren't answering the phone and I tried your cell, but it would go straight to voice mail… But you're okay?"

"Yeah, fine, fine, fine. Are you okay?" God he was so lame, why couldn't he make himself say something to Speed? Anything?

"Well I'm fine now that I know you're alive at least." Speed shook his head lightly, a small smile creeping into the corners of his mouth.

Hamlet took a deep breath ran a hand through his hair and took a few steps forward, closing most of the distance between them. He opened his mouth and closed it again. "Um, there's something I should probably tell you, something that I've been meaning to tell you." He fidgeted, staring at Speed's shoulder instead of his eyes. "Well, you see- the thing is- I've found that I kind of, um, thinkthaticareaboutyoukindofalot." He mumbled through the last part quickly and flushed a bright red, rocking on his heels and staring at patch of wall a foot higher than Speed.

And then there were arms wrapped around his waist and Speed was hugging him. Face buried against Hamlet's neck. "I care about you kind of a lot too." His voice was muffled. He pulled back, hands still resting on Hamlet's waist. Impulsively Hamlet slid his arms around the other boys neck, pulling him close and pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. When Hamlet pulled back, Speed was smiling.

"I've wanted to do that for a while." He admitted, sliding a hand over his perfectly coiffed black hair.

"Me too." Hamlet grinned stupidly and pulled him close once again. "Doubt that the stars are fire, doubt that the sun moves, doubt the words of a lying man, but never doubt that this is real. After all, I kind of care about you a lot." And then Speed's mouth was on his again, and the world didn't feel so dark at the moment.


End file.
